


Temple of Aezral

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Begging, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bondage, Cults, Dubious Consent, Edging, Humiliation, Impact Play, Knifeplay, M/M, Mind Break, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Priest Kink, Sadism, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26100649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Just a collection of smutty works centering around Aezral and his totally-not-a-cult temple of worshippers.Tags at the beginning of each story
Kudos: 15
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Favorite

**Author's Note:**

> Verbal Humiliation, Knife/Bloodplay, Sensory Deprivation, Feathers, Gratuitous Snake Imagery

“Brother Olive, the sun is setting.” The voice was soft and musical, like water in a cheerful brook. “He’s waiting.” 

With an exaggerated sigh, Olive slipped off the chaise lounge chair and straightened the silken robe he wore. He was aware of the burning gazes of the temple’s patrons burning holes into him as he stepped off the raised dais and strode out. 

_ Let them look.  _ Olive hid a smile behind the black sleeve of his robe.  _ This is what a god’s favorite looks like.  _ As he walked, his attendants circled around him in a flurry, adjusting his hair and clothes until he was perfect. Fit for a god. 

The temple was a shining example of beauty and opulence - white marble everything, carved with beautiful men and women and inlaid with gold, silver, and precious gemstones. Water trickled down the fountains laid throughout the hallways and intertwined with the music of the harp to create a twisted but lovely melody. 

Olive arrived at the massive obsidian-colored doors and paused. Carved into the black stone was two intertwining snakes, so elegantly and skillfully done that they almost seemed to move and writhe on their own. 

The eyes of the snakes, two pairs of massive sapphires, glinted cruelly down at Olive. They inspected him as one might inspect a lamb for slaughter. He stared back meekly, offering a smile. After a moment, as if the snakes made up their minds, the doors slid open soundlessly. Olive waved off his attendants and stepped inside the cool, dark room. 

Behind Olive, the doors hissed shut and the darkness swallowed him whole. 

“You’re late.” The voice is satin and wine and blades all at once, a perfect melody of madness. 

“I came as soon as I heard.” Olive lied smoothly, staying still. 

With the slightest breath of wind, Olive felt arms curl around him like snakes. One wrapped around his waist, constricting and relentless, and the other rested idly against his chest. Only a thin silken robe separated their skin and Olive’s breath hitched, aching to feel the touch. 

“Are you lying to me?” The voice was ice and fire all at once, right against Olive’s ear. He trembled slightly but quickly found his voice. 

“Will you punish me if I was?” 

A laugh, rich and lovely and lustful, twined around Olive’s head. “I think I have to, don’t I? But you don’t mind. You love it.” 

Olive’s breath wavered. “I don’t.” 

“Liar.” The hand resting on the priest’s chest moved then, coming to rest on his cheek. Skin like satin and roses touched his own, which is soft but not divine. “You’re a filthy heretic, lying to your god like this. You deserve to be punished.” 

Olive couldn’t reply with the warm breath of the god, hot and cold all at once, against the back of his neck. 

The shove came from nowhere, pushing Olive to his knees. He hit the cold marble floor with a huff. His knees stung where they braced his fall, but he was trembling too much to get up. 

“Filthy dog.” As if the words were a command, a warm air rippled through the room and countless blood-red candles ignited. The dim firelight revealed a cavernous room filled with luxury and sin. 

A bed far larger than any mortal man would need dominated the room, cloaked in red satin blankets and black silken sheets. Half a dozen chaise lounges, much like the one Olive had been sitting on not too long ago, were artfully arranged in a semi-circle in front of the bed, with an opulent chair in the center. 

The chair was made of silver and gemstone, with the softest featherdown cushion fit across it. It was a divine throne, fit for a god. 

A god indeed sat upon it. 

Olive shivered as he beheld his god. Aezral. Upon first glance, one might mistake him for an ordinary human, though one of immense beauty. Hair, black as ink and shimmering like silk, swept around his body in curtains, reaching to his waist. His skin was flawless, pale and perfect, and his features appeared to be carved from ice and frost by the most skilled sculptor the world had ever known. 

Yet. 

Yet, if you looked closer, you could see it. His eyes, bluer than any sapphire, held the careful patience and casual cruelty of a predator. When he moved, it was fluid and without hesitation, as if the world was simply moving around him. And his smile. The too-sharp fangs smiling with secrets and lies. 

Olive lowered his head. “A dog?” He whispered. “I don’t think so.” 

“Oh?” Aezral arched an eyebrow. “And what would you call yourself? You, who lies to the face of your god while pretending to love him.” 

With a sharp intake of breath, Olive’s head shot up. He felt suddenly cold. “I-!” 

“Shh.” The sound and the merciless smile soothed Olive’s heart at once. “I’m just having my fun. Come closer.” 

Olive, still feeling a bit chilled, slowly stood. He debated teasing Aezral, perhaps stepping away, but those burning sapphire eyes drew him closer without his consent. 

“You look good in my colors,” Aezral commented, resting his hands on Olive’s hips. They burned, even through the silken robe. “Black and red have always suited you.” One hand rose then and rested on Olive’s cheek. “Your skin is so pale, though. I think,” his eyes, burning straight into Olive’s soul, flashed with gleeful malice, “it would look good stained red too.” 

Olive’s breath hitched. “My lord…” 

“It’s not an option.” Aezral stood then, towering a full foot over Olive. “Lay down.” 

The command was absolute and left no room for argument. Before Olive could process what he was doing, he was laying on one of the chaises. 

“A good, loyal dog.” Aezral’s voice was silken cruelty. “You don’t want to disobey me, do you?” 

“I-” Olive hesitated, “What if I do?” 

Aezral clicked his tongue and sat beside Olive’s head, making his heart flutter. “Oh, is that how you want to play? A disloyal, disobedient dog?” He gripped Olive’s chin roughly, the touch soft and rough all at once. “Then we can play. I’ll break you down, make you beg to be a good boy. Is that what you want?” 

The words shot through Olive like poison, racing straight to his cock. He reached up at touch Aezral’s sleeve but the god was faster, catching his wrist. “No. Little heretics like you don’t get to move around freely.” 

Olive met Aezral’s gaze and the god just smiled more, his fangs glinting maliciously in the candlelight. “How about we start letting you atone?” 

Throat too tight to speak, Olive just nodded. “So now you want to play nice?” Aezral purred. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I’ll still punish you as all heretics deserve.” 

“Will…” Olive’s breathing was getting heavy. “Will you kill me? Make me one of yours?” 

“Why should I?” A piece of silk suddenly wrapped around Olive’s eyes, making him gasp. He hadn’t even seen Aezral move. “You don’t deserve such an honor.” 

“But I-” Aezral’s hands rubbed Olive’s cheeks, making him freeze. His cock hardened more. They crept around his body, skillfully untying the silken robe and leaving him in nothing. 

“Naughty boy.” Aezral’s words were somehow louder then, making Olive bite his lip. “You’re already hard? You’re supposed to be punished. Perhaps I have to be a little more…  _ forceful. _ ” The threat was like a drug, making Olive shiver. 

“Please…” 

“Hush.” Something soft was shoved into Olive’s mouth then. “You don’t get to talk. Just sit and repent.” 

Olive had no choice. His heart quivered. 

“You’re such a pathetic brat.” Aezral’s voice was sharp and cunning, striking right into Olive’s heart. “You think you’re important, don’t you?” Hands squeezed Olive’s hips so hard he knew they would bruise. “But you’re nothing. Just another priest.” 

Olive moaned into his gag. 

Something soft suddenly tickled Olive’s chest, making him jump. A feather. Aezral dragged it slowly across the priest’s chest, carefully avoiding his nipples. The sensations, soft and alluring, sent shivers down Olive’s spine and straight to his aching, untouched cock. 

“Do you like that?” Aezral’s voice was right beside Olive’s ear, making him flinch. The blindfold, the gag, they made everything so much louder, feel so much better. He nodded slowly and then a hard, stinging slap struck his cheek. “Of course you do. Whore.” 

The slap cut Olive’s lip against his teeth, making a thin line of blood drip from his mouth. After a moment of silence, Aezral’s finger brushed against the cut. “Magnificent.” He whispered. His voice was tinged with something dark and dangerous, like standing on a razor’s edge. “Look at you, already bleeding for me.” There was a moment more of silence before Aezral moved away. 

The presence left Olive suddenly and ripped a void into his blackened world. He mewled into his gag and raised his head, but he didn’t dare to take off the blindfold. 

“Hush.” Aezral’s voice came from across the room. “You want to please me, right? Atone for your sins?” There was a low  _ shhh _ , a blade being pulled out of its sheath. 

Olive twitched with excitement, his momentary alarm draining away at once. The chaise dipped beside his legs as the god settled down. “I wonder how I should make you suffer? I’m sure you have many ideas, little priest.” A strong hand gripped Olive’s thigh, the nails digging painfully into his flesh. 

The pain made Olive’s legs thrash and in an instant, he began to cum. However, to his horror and pleasure, Aezral’s hand, delicate and merciless, grabbed the base of his cock and cut off the orgasm. 

“Naughty boy.” The god clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Did I say you could cum?” 

Olive tried to thrash and move, trying to dislodge Aezral, but he found he suddenly was pinned against the chaise. It was as if an invisible weight was laid across his body. He whimpered and arched his back, trying to rub against the god. 

Another slap rang out, this one landing on Olive’s chest. It stung and electrified him all at once. “You dog. Trying to get off without permission? Pathetic.” 

There was a sharp, instant pain that raced across Olive’s stomach. Aezral had finally used the knife, cutting a long but shallow wound on the priest’s belly. He screamed into his gag, though it came out as muffled whimpers and whines. 

Aezral’s breath wavered, which made Olive’s arousal grow more. He twitched in the god’s grip but was still denied release. “You’re beautiful. This blood is beautiful.” 

A hand brushed across the wound, spreading the blood across Olive’s skin and up to his chest. The fingers idly rubbed his nipples, making them harden more, before reaching up to remove the blindfold. 

“Look,” Aezral whispered. 

Olive blinked rapidly as his vision returned, his breath ragged. The god was practically laying on top of his legs, his head inches away from Olive’s bloody stomach. They locked eyes for a long moment before Aezral’s tongue, scarlet and serpentine, appeared and ran up the gash. Olive inhaled sharply, tears stinging his eyes as he was denied his orgasm still. His skin was hot and his stomach burned and the  _ tongue  _ was divine as it moved across his body. It was overwhelming. 

Suddenly, the gag was removed from Olive’s mouth. “I think you’ve been good enough.” Aezral purred, leaning closer to his face. “Now beg.” 

Olive didn’t hesitate. “Please,” he tried to shout, though his voice was hoarse, “please let me cum.” 

Aezral was unimpressed. “Is that really all?” He sounded bored, which incited panic in Olive’s chest. “Should I just leave?”

“N-no!” Olive gasped. “Please, please let me! I’ll do anything. Please. You know I’ll do- I’ll do whatever. My life belongs to you already, what more can I say? Just- just let me-” 

Aezral clicked his tongue again and released Olive’s cock. He leaned up and pulled the priest into a rough kiss, his sharp teeth biting harshly against the already-injured lip. 

Olive came instantly, shuddering as his god held him close and kissed him. He went rigid for the long, glorious moment as his vision turned white, then collapsed limply against the chaise. He gasped for air, feeling hot and messy. 

“You did better this time.” Aezral stood, inspecting his nails. They were immaculate despite just having been ripping open Olive’s skin. “Go to the medics and get bandaged up.” 

“Don’t,” Olive rasped, “don’t you mean the healers?” 

Aezral’s smile was sharp and cruel. “No. I don’t want those healed. I worked so hard to make you pretty.” He reached over and cupped Olive’s cheek. “And if you’re a good boy, you can sleep with me tonight.” 

Olive flushed and opened his mouth, a witty retort on his tongue now that his post-orgasm mind was clear, but paused. “I can sleep in your bed? With you?” 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

Olive bit his lip, then bowed his head. “Thank you.” He quietly stood and scurried out, his heart beating faster. Just a quick trip to the medics to get some bandages, then he could come back. 

A smile lit the priest’s lips as he left the room, the massive obsidian doors sliding open. His attendants gawked at him, whispering, but he ignored them. After all, why would the god’s favorite care about the whisperings of mortals? 


	2. Demon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A commission 
> 
> Impact Play, Blood Drinking, Breath Play, Tortue, Sadism, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dub-Con, Begging, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Mind Break, for a bottom Olive likes topping a lil too much 

Under the moonlight sky, the temple was quiet. No one stirred within the white marble walls. Even the fountains, normally tinkling with merry music, seemed muffled and tense. 

Olive gripped the man’s hair and yanked his head up. “You’ll answer me, worthless dog,” He hissed lowly, pressing the gold-edged blade against the curve of the intruder’s throat, “or I’ll spill your blood here and now. Your soul will be trapped here forever, a feast for the crows.” 

The man glared up at the priest. “I will not.” He rasped in a thick accent. “I am bound to my god, the one and only-” 

Baring his teeth like an animal, Olive struck the side of the man’s head with the hilt of his dagger. “Your god is worthless here.” He spat. “Aezral is the only god you may speak of in these halls.” 

“Your god bleeds though, eh?” The man gave Olive a ghastly smile. 

Olive’s vision tinged with red. “You-!” 

“Bring him closer.” The voice was soft, razor-edged. Olive glanced back at Aezral, who was reclining in the chaise lounge sat atop the raised dais of the room. They were in the altar room where sacrifices were held. It was Olive’s station and he prided himself on everything being immaculate, yet the pristine room somehow seemed muddied with the presence of the stranger. 

The two guards holding the man dragged him closer, forcing his head down so it was lying on the cold marble stairs below Aezral. 

“You are from Evira’s temple,” Aezral said it calmly, as if his holy robe wasn’t split open and stained with golden blood. The flesh had already healed underneath, but Olive felt tears prick at his eyes when he saw the gilded blood - he had failed his sacred duty to protect and uphold the god. He appeared to his followers in this vulnerable form just to please them and Olive couldn’t even stop one would-be assassin. 

“Evira is the holiest god. She is the one and only-” 

Aezral gave such a long, drawn-out sigh that the man couldn’t even finish his sentence. He just gaped like a fish. 

“Do you really think he cares about your rambling?” Olive chided, kicking the man in the side. He was barefoot, as was required in the temple, but he put enough force into it to make the man wheeze in pain. 

“Olive, my dear,” Aezral murmured, “don’t sully yourself by touching. He still has blood on him.” 

Stepping away, Olive glanced down at his foot and sighed internally in relief when he saw no trace of the divine blood on him. 

Aezral stood, the black silk of his ruined robe billowing around him like a living shadow. “Evira is weak. Pathetic. She has to send an assassin after me?” He smiled, his fangs glinting in the firelight, and Olive felt his heart skip a beat. “Fine. Then I shall repay her kindness.

“Olive, come here.” Aezral held out a hand and the priest hurried to comply, flushing as he grasped the hand of his god. The skin was satin and ice all at once. “I want you to… purify him.” His eyes gleamed like malevolent sapphires. “You know what to do. Make up for your past mistake.” 

“Anything for you.” Olive bowed his head, anticipation already making him shiver. Aezral pulled his hand away, to Olive’s disappointment, and strode into the darkness. He seemed to fade into a whispering song after just a few steps, the echo of soft laughter filling the air as he disappeared. 

“What does that mean?” The man demanded at once.

Olive gave the stranger a scornful look before glancing at the guards and straightening his robes. “Alright. Take him to the black room and… prepare him. I’ll be there in a moment.” Without hesitation, the guards began dragging the bewildered man away. 

Taking a moment to compose himself, Olive hurried up to his seat atop the dais and removed the cushions. Underneath, safely stored away, was a delicate silver chest no wider than three feet and just half a foot tall. It was inlaid with a sapphire snake, its eye a gleaming ruby. Olive shuddered as the gemstone creature appraised him. After a moment, there was a  _ click  _ and the chest opened. 

Inside were three long whips, each made from a different material. Olive eyed the steel and ivory one but decided against it. After all, it would be sacrilegious to kill his god’s new plaything on the first night. 

Olive instead picked out his favorite, a bamboo pole laced with black and red silk. The long leather cord attached was adorned with golden tassels that, soft at first touch, became a dangerous tool if moved fast enough. He smiled, shuddering as he remembered his own experiences under the merciless whip, and shut the chest, carefully replacing the cushions before hurrying off with his prize. 

The black room was set in the same area of the temple as the spas and saunas, but it was marked with a black door as opposed to the immaculate white ones. A snarling wildcat with eyes of gold stared down anyone who wished to enter, the details so intricate and lovingly etched that it looked as if it would spring to life at any moment. Olive placed his hand on the wildcat’s head and the door slid open soundlessly. 

True to its name, the black room was a pit of inky blackness. Dim green fire burned along the walls but exploded violet as Olive entered. It cast a haunted light about the room, which was mostly empty save for a few shelves and, of course, the main attraction. 

In the center of the room was a wooden table inlaid with silver and gold. Long black silk ribbons curled from the sides, beautiful and unbreakable. And strapped to it, laying flat on his back, was the intruder. 

“Ah, there you are.” Olive smiled, feeling his heart race as he stepped closer. The guards had indeed prepared the man - he was completely nude and strapped down, his ankles and wrists tied firmly so he couldn’t struggle. A cloth gag had also been put into his mouth - forced if the bite marks on the silk were anything to go by, though the material couldn’t be broken by such animalistic means. 

The man eyed Olive warily as he drew closer before his face went pale. “Oh, you’ve seen it?” Olive held his whip up higher, the violet light making it seem all the lovelier. “I was hoping to keep it for last, but what’s the point now?” 

Muffled cries came from the man, but Olive simply raised the whip with exaggerated movements, imagining the way his god moved and walked. So graceful and perfect. If he could replicate that… 

The whip sang down and struck the intruder with a glorious  _ crack.  _ He screamed into his gag, making Olive’s heart flutter before he struck again. And again. After ten strikes, the skin finally split and began bleeding. 

Olive moaned softly, the sight making his cock harden. The man was shaking now, tears welling in his eyes, but Olive just smiled. “Oh,” he said breathlessly, “you’re upset? Imagine how it felt when you cut the skin of my god. He’s perfect, divine, holy. You’re nothing but a lowly worm.” 

The priest crept closer, rubbing his hand across the bleeding gash. Though he was a vile heretic, Olive could admit the man was handsome - strongly built, with golden eyes and black hair. He smiled and nimbly swung up, straddling the man’s waist. “You need to atone for your sins. I can be your vessel. Would you like that?” 

A muffled growl and a sharp glare answered Olive. He smiled in response. “That’s more fun for me, then.” He reached inside his robe and withdrew a small, blood-red vial. “Do you see this? This is Ichor. Not the kind you’re thinking of, though.” 

As he spoke, Olive removed the stopper and shifted forward, leaning across the man until they were stomach-to-stomach. “This is a very, very potent drug. Our god makes it just for us. It’s very… useful in convincing people like you to be more open.” He leaned forward, brushing his lips against the man’s neck, causing him to flinch. 

Olive pressed the vial to the man’s lips, then tugged at the corner of his cheek when he wouldn’t open his mouth. The red liquid slowly drained into the man’s mouth, though he tried to spit it out several times, as Olive watched intently. Less than half of the small vial made it in, but it was enough. 

After a moment, Olive felt the man’s cock harden against his thigh. He smiled and slipped a hand across the man’s chest, rubbing at his stiffening nipples. “See? It helps, doesn’t it?” He could see the lust and anger warring in the man’s eyes and his own dick stiffened more. 

“Playing hard to get?” Olive whispered, nibbling at the man’s neck. “Don’t be coy. I can see it. You want to fuck me hard, don’t you? Hold me down, make me scream, right? You can’t do that if you keep acting so hostile. Give in and let it take over. Embrace Aezral.” 

The man’s chest was rising and falling rapidly as his breathing turned ragged, but his face was set in a determined scowl. Olive smirked slightly and gingerly removed the silk gag. “Go on then, say what you want to. I can tell you’re dying to  _ whine _ .” 

“Not,” the man snarled through gritted teeth, “whining. You are a filthy demon. It’s my job to slay people like you. You are unnatural, trying to lay with another man.” 

“So barbaric.” Olive shook his head, letting his thick blonde hair come loose from its tie. “Is this better? Do I look like a woman now?” His smirk turned to a grin as he saw the man’s face flush. 

After a moment of silence, the man ground out, “You-!” 

“Me.” Olive sat up, slowly untying his robe. “As lovely as this is, my time is running short. I’m so sorry, I don’t have breasts, but I hope you don’t mind. I’ll let you take me like any good whore.” 

“What-” Before the man could finish speaking, Olive gathered blood from the still-bleeding gash and began rubbing it along the man’s cock. He let out a deep moan that made Olive perk up. 

“There! See, you’re just as much of a wanton whore as I am.” Shifting, the priest shifted until his ass was pressing against the head of the man’s dick. “You’re not as big as I like,” Olive said, mostly to watch the man frown, “but you’ll do. Why don’t you tell me your name?” 

The man looked as if he wanted to slap Olive, which Olive wouldn’t have exactly been opposed to, but after a moment he finally mumbled, “Arsenio.” 

“A handsome name,” Olive replied. “I think I’ll enjoy screaming it.” Maintaining eye contact with Arsenio, he slowly pushed backward, impaling himself on the man’s cock. He gasped and gripped Arsenio’s shoulders tightly, feeling every inch of flesh slowly slide into him. 

Arsenio wasn’t big, but he was just right for Olive. His cock was thick enough to fill the priest fully and make him tremble with the effort of forcing himself down. He gasped as he finally bottomed out, his ass flat against the man’s hips, and looked up to see Arsenio was watching him with a flushed face, his eyes filled with lust. 

“So you like it now, huh?” Olive said huskily as he started slowly moving up and down, moaning every time his prostate was rubbed. “I wonder what your goddess would think if she saw you now, a slut begging to fuck me.” 

“I- I’m not…” Arsenio managed, but gasped as Olive sped up, unable to finish his sentence. 

Olive waited, timing himself perfectly until he felt Arsenio twitch inside of him… then he went completely still. 

“What-?!” Arsenio’s head shot up. “Why- why did you stop?” 

“I want you to beg.” Olive rasped. “Tell me how much you want to defile yourself. Break your oath to your goddess and join me.” 

“Tch.” Arsenio glared down at Olive and for a moment he thought the man wouldn’t agree, but then he suddenly burst out, “Please! Don’t stop. I- I need this. I just- please…” He ended with a strangled moan that made Olive flush. 

Well, who was he to deny the man? 

With renewed vigor, Olive began to rock back and forth on Arsenio’s cock, moaning as it slid across his prostate over and over. He leaned down and, with a practiced hand, undid the restraints on the man’s wrists. 

Olive prepared to be hit or shoved, but, to his delight, Arsenio just grabbed Olive’s hips and began helping him move. He grinned and gently took one of the man’s hands and led it to his dick, which was aching and untouched. “Be a dear…” 

Without further prompting, Arsenio began massaging Olive’s cock with such precision and tact that it was hard to believe he’d never given a handjob before. “Oh,” Olive gasped, “you… you must have so much experience on yourself. Mm, yes, like that. Your goddess must be such a tyrant to serve. Never letting you enjoy simple pleasures.” 

Arsenio’s face flushed even more. “... no. We were never allowed… no drinking or sex.” 

“A shame.” Olive leaned closer to Arsenio’s face, his hands circling the man’s throat. “You’re, mm, yeah, you’re so strong and handsome.” He knew it was likely the drugs making the man more compliant, but Olive saw Arsenio’s eyes widen. 

“You’re toying with me.” The man accused, his movements getting rougher as his breathing got ragged. 

Olive smiled and applied pressure to Arsenio’s throat. He responded with a gasp, but the delighted priest felt the man’s cock twitch inside of him. “You’re wonderful, perfect to serve Aezral. Strong and powerful and a wanton whore.” 

Arsenio’s lips twitched in displeasure, but Olive pressed on, applying more and more pressure to his throat. “You want to spend your days like this, pleasuring me and the other priests. You  _ want  _ to abandon your goddess. She doesn’t mean anything to you anymore, isn’t that right?” 

After a moment, Arsenio began nodding and Olive’s smile grew. “You’re a slut, just like us, and you want to worship Aezral. You want to feel him embrace you so you can please him. You want to pleasure us, fuck us like we deserve, don’t you?” 

“I- I do.” Arsenio gasped. “I want- I want to do this every day. I- I-” Olive felt him stiffen and gripped his throat tighter, causing the man to orgasm right as his oxygen was cut off completely. 

The warmth of the man’s cum, alongside the way his face flushed and his hand tighten, made Olive climax mere moments after. He trembled atop Arsenio for a minute, breathing heavily as he felt the man’s cock slowly soften and then slip out with a lewd  _ slick  _ sound. 

Arsenio stared at Olive blankly, his face covered in sweat and smeared with the Ichor he’d managed to spit out earlier. He made such a pretty sight, completely broken and pliable, ready for someone to mold him into the perfect little angel. 

Olive smiled as he slipped off the table, gripping the edge as his legs threatened to buckle under him.  _ Angel? No.  _ He tilted Arsenio’s chin up and gently kissed him, licking at the Ichor still on his lips. 

After all, Arsenio had been right earlier. The temple really was a hive of demons. 

But that was what Aezral wanted, so Olive couldn’t help but comply. “You’ll make a beautiful little demon, Arsenio.” 


End file.
